A ballroom, but no fizz in the party

The Liberal Democrats are in Blackpool. They haven't been here for a several years, and they looked a little stunned. A place where you can buy split crotch panties from slot machines for £1 is outside their normal experience. It's not always easy to concentrate on the party review of millennial goals when you're sharing space with the country's largest transvestite nightclub.

Even in Blackpool they can't quite get away from the sense that things are being run by a lonely schoolboy from his bedroom. They have 29 different colour-coded passes with different initials. Imagine the fun someone had working them out! So if you meet someone whose pass says EXO, he or she is an important person, being ex-officio, whereas a poor old FG is merely a fringe guest. I couldn't find a TDJ (transvestite disc jockey, but perhaps next year.)

The Winter Gardens ballroom is also too big for them. As a party they tend to migrate together, swarming off for cups of tea, or possibly to get in fresh supplies of exotic undergarments, so the hall can look suddenly horribly empty.

There's also an air of disappointment, since they didn't do as well in the election as they had hoped. To cheer themselves up they held a parade of 20 new MPs. It resembled the old Miss World contests, except these were all men in dark suits, apart from the women, two of whom also wore dark suits.

They walked on to the platform and waved gamely at the spectators. You half expected a commentator to say: "Danny is interested in travel, meeting people and imposing a 50% top rate of income tax ... if Paul wins , he hopes to help make poverty history, and draw up a strategy to roll out road user pricing."

Next came the big moment of the day, an informal question and answer session with Charles Kennedy. He was asked why the party's policy had not got across to the electorate - was it the fault of the party itself, or "the narrow-minded media"?

Quite a poser. Mr Kennedy handled it by saying that he wanted to win more seats. "That's the ambition I and a lot of people have for this party, I certainly do!" That must have come as a relief.

Then a chap who had been a candidate at the election asked the money question - though phrased quite delicately. He had spent a lot of time on the doorstep defending his party leader. But shouldn't he have been able to use this time to convey party policies?

The message seemed clear: the voters don't like you. The audience bridled. This is the courteous party and someone was being rude. You shouldn't do that, any more than you should appear on the platform wearing only a posing pouch (also £1 from the slot machines.)

Mr Kennedy bridled too. "Compared with the other two parties, the leader of the Liberal Democrats has been considered a considerable asset - to the Liberal Democrats!" he said to loud cheering from the otherwise somnolent delegates. The other parties wanted only to stop the march of liberal democracy. "They aren't going to stop me - I have been in politics a long time and I have got a very thick skin!"

The message: the reason I am called a bad party leader is that I am such a good leader they are scared of me, was greeted with even louder applause.

All he had to do then was to remind us of the birth of his baby boy, (now sleeping through the night) and he was home and dry. "And I don't think any human being in the country would have denied me a bit of a family break!" Loud and prolonged cheers.